Better Left Forgotten
by Ottsel Instinct
Summary: One is a much loved child. The other, a product of a one night stand. Two brothers finding each other in the chaos their crazed father created. Sometimes, these secrets are best left to themselves.
1. Homeward Brawl

**Ottsie: Heyo. Welcome to my first fanfic. I hope you guys like it. It's really short at the moment, but I'm hoping that as the story goes on, it'll gradually get longer.  
Anywhos, enjoy.**

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Chapter One: Homeward Brawls

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It was dark outside.

The lights bathed the slums in a soft golden hue. In the shadows, the only light to be seen was the reflection of the fire's flame in the eyes of the poor. Shivering, from the cold or the fear he didn't know, he kept his eyes down low. Walking the dangerous streets at night, and the eerie glow of the watchful gazes unnerved the young elf. And, hell, that _was_ something. Jazen was originally from Kras, the city home to a multitude of gangs and their lords, and the famous Kras City Grand Championships. Jazen used to make a living doing all of Mizo's dirty work; that was what he had been raised for in the past few years. But, after Mizo got taken out a few years back, Razer had kicked the poor kid out into the streets. He had never really liked the boy from the beginning, when Mizo had 'gained custody' of him from a Red Guard or whatever from Haven City during one of his routine visits. Razer had never bothered to ask where exactly the kid actually came from.

Now, the barely legal teen was out in the world, on his own for the first time since his father had passed him on. All Jazen had with him was a small amount of orbs Razer had been so gracious to give to him, and his father's old Jet Board, which was still a proto-type when his father had even received the damn thing. The old piece of tin scrap was prone to breaking down and frying. Jazen had made due with the scraps he had found lying around the garages Mizo owned. He was sure to round up a few spare parts before leaving Kras Stadium for the last time. That was nearly three years ago. These days, Jazen earned what little orbs he could, doing dangerous jobs for pay that wasn't even worth it. After yet another beating from a cruel boss, Jazen had crawled his way back home, crying the whole time. He wasn't born into this harsh life, wasn't made for it.

After his tears had finally dried up, Jazen picked up his precious board, took a quick look around him at what had been his makeshift home for the past three years, and left. He had no money, but the teenager was determined to find his way back to his home city. Even if that meant stowing away on a transit air ship to get there.

"Mum, I'm coming."

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Spitting on the ground, Denzel watched in fascination as his blood mixed with the grime on the ground. It was quite disgusting really. Golden eyes looked up and glared at the person in front of. How dare this piece of shit think that he was really more superior to him just because he was the son of a Freedom League officer. Hell, his father wasn't even in league with that Jak Mar person. Denzel scoffed as he straightened his posture and gave his opponent a level look. Jak Mar, the _great_ hero of Haven city. Married to that mechanic girl, his father's old mechanic. The mere thought of his would-be father made the teen elf's blood boil.

Growling, he charged forward, catching the older, gloating elf in a vicious spear tackle that sent them both sprawling to the ground. Fists swung with desperation, hitting whatever foreign flesh he could get at. Denzel didn't even register the other arms trying to drag him away from the unfortunate victim below him. Panicked screams echoed around, chants of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" filled the air as all the young of the Slums gathered around to watch the bloody battle in front of them. The fighting was turning into a bludging as the older boy finally gave in and simply curled up and protected his beaten body as best he could.

"DENZEL!" A vicious, commanding tone dominated the younger elves own shrieks. Curious they all turned to the source of the voice, and immediately scattered, minus the two still on the ground. Torn walked up to the scuffling boys and ripped Denzel off the other, tossing him aside and kneeling to look at the other.  
"Tomas, are you okay?" Tomas nodded weakly and whimpered. His face was all cut up and bloody, nasty bruises forming all along his limbs. The Freedom League Commander also suspected a broken rib or two. He shook his head, and turned to the two other officers who had followed him to the alleyway.  
"Get young Tomas to the hospital and tell George not to worry about Denzel, I will make sure he is adequately punished."  
The two guards confirmed his commands and gently helped Tomas to his feet, eventually picking him up due to the fact that it appeared that the youth also had a broken ankle, leg or something that sort. With Tomas safely out of the way, Torn whirled his lithe frame round to glare angrily at his young charge.

"Denzel! What on earth were you thinking?!" Denzel spat at the ground angrily.  
"He insulted me! That fu-" Torn clipped the teen behind the ear.  
"Language! Really, what on earth would your mother have thought? We really need to talk this through…" Seizing the nineteen year old by the upper arm, the Commander proceeded to drag him all the way back to HQ.


	2. Along the Way

**Well... this took longer than expected to write. Meh.**

**Enjoy.**

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Chapter 2: Along the way

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Slipping out the back of the transport, as soon as Jazen's feet hit the pavement he quickly scurried off, putting as much distance between him and the craft as he could before the rest of the occupants could realize that he had stolen a ride. Jazen stretched with relief and sighed. The journey had been a long one, but at least it was a direct flight. He shuddered at the thought of the hassle it would have been to jump ships at a terminal. Trying to worm his way into that one was hard enough as it was.

Eyes like molten gold looked around in puzzlement. It had been at least ten years since he last set foot in this city, even so, his father had been the one to guide him around. His precious wife and child were never permitted to walk the streets alone. Blinking, he tried to recall the map he had looked at a few days ago of Haven City. He gathered it had been a fairly recent map, seeing as how there was a huge gaping hole where the palace used to be. Jazen looked out towards where the tall building had once stood proudly against the cityscape. He also noted the open space before him.  
"Huh, I guess I'm at the Port." Wandering down the bridge all the way to the far shore, he looked in wonder at all the zoomers flying overhead. Cars were the popular form of transport in Kras; it was rare to see a zoomer amongst all the rumbling engines. Itching to try one, he forced himself to keep moving, still looking around for anything he could remember from his first few years being alive. It was so long ago, he was surprised he could remember anything at all.

Walking around the port, Jazen decided to head to the inner parts of the city, hoping to run into anyone at all he would recognise. With each step, his mind began to falter. The young elf was slowly realizing that he hadn't really thought this through. The only person he could remember from his childhood was Torn, his father's best friend from the KG. Even then, the red head highly doubted the Commander would even recognise him, it have been more than a decade since his father sold him to a random gang lord. He scowled at the thought of his father's cold act.  
"Yeah, thanks for nothing dad."  
Jazen had heard of what his father had been up to since he was sent off, by means of the newspapers that Mizo had brought home from his trips to Haven. He had read as his father excelled in his line of work, shaping the Krimzon Guards into the feared unit they were. He read how his father had been taken down from his mighty pedestal by a 17-year-old boy, who ultimately destroyed him. Jazen scoffed in disgust. And to think, at one point, Jazen had actually idolised Erol. Gritting his teeth, Jazen leaned his back against a nearby wall and slid down, head buried in his arms. There was no way that he'd even be able to navigate his way around the city on his own.

"Hey, kid." One golden eye opened blearily to gaze at the soldier in blue. He was crouching down, while his patrol partner stood a little way back, scoffing.  
"Leave him, Jenks, he's probably just another street rat." Jenks ignored his colleague.  
"Hey, you alright there, kid?" Jazen looked at the man.  
"I'm lost." He whispered hoarsely. Acting 101, Jazen had to be good at conning people. Not a very nice thing to do, but he had learned that the fastest way to do things was, generally, the _professional_ way.  
"Huh. Tell ya what, I'll take you over to see the Commander, maybe he'll know what to do with you." Jenks offered his hand out, and Jazen took it, smiling hesitantly towards the officer, who nodded encouragingly and gently tugged him over to a bar with a brightly coloured sign.

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"Really, Denzel, what in the Precursors were you thinking?!" The teen flinched as his care taker slammed his open palm onto the table top. Hesitantly, blazing emerald eyes looked towards the slightly enraged Commander. Denzel tried a smile.  
"I… ah, wasn't?" Torn's lip curled slightly.  
"Exactly! Exactly, you… you weren't… Damn it all!" Torn threw his hands up in the air in a sign of defeat, and Denzel chewed on his bottom lip.  
"Torn, look I'm sorry. I just sort of lost it and-"  
"See, Denzel, this is exactly the kind of thing your father would have done, and gotten himself killed for!" Torn whirled about and looked at the teen, who was now glaring a hole through the carpet. Torn sighed, and ran a hand through his red and brown dreadlocks. He lowered himself into the bar stool beside his brood charge.  
"Denzel. I just want you to watch yourself. I saw your father go down a path of destruction of his own making. I don't want to see that happening to you too." Placing a hand on him, Torn squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, before standing up.

Denzel stared darkly at the floor, fighting back the urge to scream. Torn meant well, he really did. And the young adult knew that. But, as much as he, and his wife, Ashelin, tried, there was nothing they could do to fill the empty place in his heart. Why, why did she have to leave him? His own mother. Granted, Isabella had some problems, hell, she had a lot of problems. Isabella was a drunkard, and a prostitute. She got around pretty fast, falling into the beds of every commander under the sun, with the exception of Torn, who had pushed her onto his best friend at the time. Erol had gladly accepted the woman into his bed, and waved goodbye the next day, not knowing about the son he had unwittingly fathered. Denzel had grown up alone, in the harshness of the slums. Isabella, besides giving the poor boy a name, didn't really care about him much, and left him in the care of her cousin, Tess. Tess took good care of Denzel, but despite his mother's wishes for him to remain with Tess, Denzel always came back to take care of his mother. She was all he had really.

It hurt him, when she had taken her own life. He couldn't really understand why, when things around the city were starting to get better. Tess had even offered to let her work in the bar she co-owned with that little orange rat. Denzel didn't think too highly of the city's latest hero. But, Jak seemed like an okay guy, his wife and two kids were really sweet and caring too. Denzel was only friends with Jak through Torn, and the fact that Denzel was now everyone's unofficial babysitter. The teen snorted, as he got up and went to check on the kids he had conveniently forgotten about prior to his scuffle a while back. Rolling his shoulders and wincing at the bruising, Denzel walked back into one of HQ's inner most rooms. As soon as he did, three little head turns and squealed.  
"Uncle Den!" Denzel smiled warmly as the Mar twins and the smallest Praxis launched themselves at him.

"Woah! Did Torn give you all way too much sugar again?" Chase and Lucifer shook their heads. Denzel chuckled, the two looked like mini-Jaks, and that alone, often had Daxter going on and on for hours about Jak creating a new miniature hero army for himself.  
"Daddy gave us ice cream!" Denzel shook his head, willing to bet that the blond hero had done so without his wife's permission. A timid hand touched his face gently.  
"What's wrong with your face, Den Den?" Lucaria looked at him with a small frown on her face. Denzel smiled at her.  
"Nothing. I just got into a fight, that's all." Lucaria's frown deepened, her long auburn hair swirling gently around her face.  
"Daddy doesn't like it when you fight." Denzel nodded, smoothing away the frown on the young Praxis' face, remembering all too well the lecture he had been subjected to all the way from the slums. Before he could open his mouth to ask Lucaria a question, an echoing voice boomed throughout the building.  
"Denzel Croft, you are requested in the main hall." Denzel looked up at the speakers in disbelief.  
What had he done now?

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**Well, there ya go. Second chappy up. **

**Please review, I'll give you an Ottsel! *Waves Daxter around***


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